The man in white
by Nuclear Sheep
Summary: Gibbs meets Archangel, with quite interesting results.
1. At the Crime Scene

Leroy Jethro Gibbs stopped short when he came up to the crime scene. They were not the first ones there. Unless the body was found on base or on a ship, local LEOs or paramedics were there first, but usually they were the first people called if the body turned out to be Nave or Marine personnel. The FBI and some other agencies had the annoying tendency to turn up when they were processing the scene, but usually Gibbs and his team were first. Mostly due to his driving and the fact that everybody knew that Gibbs could be one mean bastard if he wanted to. Most cops in the area Gibbs was likely to show up had heard rumours about him and made sure to call NCIS first. This time they hadn't.

Their crime scene was full of people completely dressed in white. Even the soles of their shoes would be white if they were new. Gibbs had never heard of an agency with that kind of dress code. He started looking for the person in charge of that troupe. He would make sure that they knew who they were messing with and that it was a very bad idea.

There was a man standing near the sidelines who looked quite important. White three piece suit with a white tie, white shoes and white panama hat. Everything looked custom made, too. The glasses with a black lens over the left eye and the cane were interesting. Gibbs felt as if the one visible eye could look right through him. Maybe this wasn't going to be as easy as he had thought. But Gibbs was a marine. He would get the job done, no matter what.

"What are you doing at my crime scene?" Gibbs growled. Maybe he could intimidate the man into compliance.

"Your crime scene? Did your parents never teach you to share your toys?" The answer was glib and showed a hint of amusement. Gibbs gritted his teeth.

"Who are you?" He bit out.

"You know, the polite thing to do when asking for someone's name is to offer one's own first. Your manners are quite appalling, I must say." That answer made Gibbs seethe.

"Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs, NCIS. Now, who are you?" He asked impatiently.

"Special Agent Michael Briggs, FBI. Very nice to meet you, too." FBI, right. And Gibbs himself was the tooth fairy.

"FBI, huh? Dead Navy Officer. My jurisdiction. Give me everything you have gathered so far, then leave. Clear?" Gibbs demanded.

"Yes, FBI. Your dead Navy Officer worked for a classified project that you have no clearance for, but I do. A very important project that the joint chiefs don't want jeopardized. They want someone completely impartial to investigate this matter. That means you are out. SecNav should have called your director by now and pulled you off the case. It was nice meeting you, Agent Gibbs."

Right at that moment Gibbs cell phone started ringing. It was Vance, calling him back. He sounded as annoyed as Gibbs felt. Gibbs briefly considered grabbing the man and demanding answers, but one look at the woman now standing next to them made him reconsider. He probably would be dead before he hit the floor.

He would get them next time.


	2. At NCIS

Michael Coldsmith-Briggs III, also known as Archangel, stalked into the NCIS headquarters, Marella as always close at his heels. Gibbs and his team had managed to catch someone Archangel had been hunting for some time. To add insult to injury, they had done so completely by accident and didn't even realize yet who exactly had fallen into their grasp. It was therefore quite understandable that Archangel wasn't in the best of moods.

A few security guards tried to stop him, but a quick wave of his badge and a glare that could have liquidized helium stopped them in their tracks. He could see them calling someone out of the corner of his good eye. Much to the relief of everyone in the lobby an elevator was waiting for them.

Director Vance had been waiting for them in his office, but had caved in to their demands after a bit of pressure. The man had political goals and the accompanying sense of meeting someone too big to take on.

Archangel made his way down into the bullpen to deliver the news himself. He noticed Vance stepping out of his office after him, presumably to watch the show. Gibbs was just about to tear into his team about their lack of progress when Archangel interrupted him.

"Special Agent Gibbs. You have something that belongs to me." Archangel said. Gibbs turned around and his glare clearly said that he recognized the man in white and what he thought about him.

"Yeah? What would that be?" Gibbs asked.

"Your suspect." Archangel replied.

"And what does the FBI want with my suspect? He had a Marine killed." Gibbs shot back.

"He is wanted in most states. The laundry list of his offences starts with fraud and ends with murder. Some of the people he had killed were children. Of course he had them tortured first, so their parents would do things his way." Archangel said. Gibbs scowled.

"Where will he be prosecuted?" Gibbs asked.

"That will be decided at a later date. First he will be brought to a secure facility where he has no chance of contacting his organization. Then he will be thoroughly interrogated. By my people. After that he will go to court. Now, hand him over." Archangel answered. Gibbs growled.

"You got the necessary paperwork?" Gibbs asked. Archangel waved it at him.

After the white suited pain in the butt had left with their suspect Gibbs exchanged a look with the director. He looked as if he had eaten an entire crate of lemons. Gibbs himself wanted nothing more than to punch some dirtbag's face in.

He would also bet that the man wasn't FBI at all. Probably intelligence of some kind. That was the second time they had stolen a case of his. He knew that intelligence types were tricky to handle, so he needed to find more information about them. Next time he would be prepared for them!


	3. Seeking information

Tobias Fornell, Special Agent at the FBI, walked into the basement of his sort of friend, Leroy Jethro Gibbs. He had sounded really tense over the phone, and Fornell was dreading the coming talk. Usually if Gibbs sounded like that, something bad was about to happen to someone, and more often than not this meant a hell of a lot of paperwork for Fornell.

"Evening, Gibbs. So, what do you want?" Fornell asked.

"Hello Tobias. I need to find someone. Met him twice. The first time at a crime scene, where he stole my case, the second time at the navy yard, where he stole my suspect. He said he was FBI." Gibbs answered.

"So, you think someone impersonated an FBI agent to cover up a crime?" Fornell asked.

"I'm not sure. Someone went to court for the first crime, now it's up to the judge. The second time only happened last week. I found out who our suspect was yesterday. Man by the name of John Bradford Horn. A very slippery dirtbag, was caught several times in several nations across the world and managed to get away every time. I think that whoever my guy is, he wants to make sure there is no foul play. I don't know what to think." Gibbs replied.

"What can you tell me about him?" Fornell asked.

"Not much. Called himself Michael Briggs, was completely dressed in white. And I mean completely. Head to toe, even the tie was white. His suit looked tailored, and he had a panama hat. He wore an eye patch over his left eye and walked with a cane. That tell you something?" Gibbs answered.

"I've heard of him. I don't know his name, not even a code name. But I know that he is very high up in one of our intelligence agencies. Way up, very near the top. From what I have heard he is absolutely loyal to this country, hates traitors and always gets what he wants. Him showing up is usually a very bad sign if you have something to hide. He is one of the good guys, but not someone to mess with. I heard of one agent who did something to piss him off, he ended up with the worst possible posting you can have at the FBI. He's still there, five years later." Fornell said.

"So, a good guy, huh?" Gibbs asked.

"Yeah. Leave it alone, Gibbs. It's not worth your pension." With those parting words Fornell walked out.

Gibbs took some time thinking over what Fornell had said. It made sense, but he still didn't like it. What right did the man in white have to butt in on his investigations? Good guy or not, that was not something Gibbs could tolerate. If a case was his, he would see it to the end. No interference allowed. Even if the guy turned out to be the President himself, he would track him down and give him a piece of his mind.

Back in his office, Archangel smiled.


	4. Hacking just doesn't work

Gibbs walked into Abby's lab. If anyone could find something for him, it was her.

"Hello, Abbs. I need you to find someone for me." Gibbs said as a greeting.

"Hello my silver fox. Who do you want me to find? We don't have a case right now." Abby wanted to know.

"You remember the guy who stole two of my cases? I talked to Fornell. He says that the man is some kind of intelligence and pretty high up. Do you think you could dig up something about him?" Gibbs asked.

"Intelligence, huh? I can get his picture from the surveillance tapes and check the name he used. I can't promise anything, though." Abby replied.

"That's all right. Just do your best." Gibbs said.

Gibbs stayed watching Abby work. To be honest, he wasn't quite sure if involving her was a good idea. It was one thing to risk his own career. Was that really worth it? With a mental huff he shoved his doubts aside. He was doing the right thing. Those intelligence guys needed to be brought back to reality from time to time. All that power and secrecy went to their heads. Who better to do it than Gibbs himself? He would find that bastard and give him a piece of his mind. He had locked horns with the CIA and came out on top. He could take on a half blind cripple.

Abby's swearing brought Gibbs out of his musings.

"What's wrong, Abbs?" Gibbs asked.

"My computer is dead." Abby answered.

"Dead how?" Gibbs asked.

"I thought I had found something. I went to take a closer look, then my computer crashed. I looks as if it has been completely wiped. No operating system any more, all data gone! It's as if it was completely new, fresh out of the box. I don't understand it who could do something like that. Especially over a network. Wiping a system that thoroughly takes a few hours easily. That was done in minutes!" Abby wailed.

"I'm sorry Abbs." Gibbs said.

"It's not that bad, I have a back up, nothing is lost permanently. I just don't understand how it worked." Abby replied.

Before Gibbs could say anything more, his cellphone rang.

"Gibbs!" He barked into the receiver.

"Good afternoon, Agent Gibbs." Came an annoyingly familiar voice out of the speaker.

"You!" Gibbs growled.

"Yes, me. You are looking for me. Stop it. Your snooping distracts resources that could be better used elsewhere." The man replied.

"Why should I stop?" Gibbs asked.

"Your friend, Agent Fornell, told you that I am one of the good guys." Briggs answered.

"Oh, and how am I supposed to know that that's true?" Gibbs wanted to know.

"That's easy. I wear a white hat." With a click, the line went dead.

With a frustrated shout, Gibbs threw his phone onto the floor. It shattered satisfyingly.


	5. A Surprising Proposal

Gibbs stalked down the street, the masses in front of him parting like the red sea. Today was not a good day. He had been called out at oh dark hundred for a dead marine. It was an open and shut case, the boyfriend had thought she was cheating (she wasn't) and had shot her in front of a club. Then there had been a meeting with the director about how he should take on a more active role in training the next generation of agents. He really didn't want any more interns. After that had come the bomb alarm. A visitor had forgotten to remove the alarm clock they had bought the day before from their bag. That spoke loads for the competence of building security. Now it was three in the afternoon and he hadn't had any coffee at all since getting up. The coffee withdrawal had mated with his constant low level irritation brought on by his failure to find out anything more about the white pain in the butt to produce the mood from hell. On his way out of the Navy Yard on his quest for coffee some of the junior agents had actually hid beneath their desks when he walked past. Just one cup of coffee would do loads to increase his mood. Only a few more steps and he would reach his goal.

There was a white stretch limo in front of his favourite coffee shop. That was highly unusual. The kind of people who used that sort of car usually had people who delivered their coffee to them. Cautiously he stepped through the door. His already bad mood got even worse. The current bane of his existence, a white clad spy, sat at one of the table. He obviously had just finished a phone call and was now glaring at the phone as if he wanted nothing more than to set the thing on fire. Seeing the other man like that lifted Gibbs' spirits a tiny bit.

And now he would get some answers. But first he would get coffee.

"If you want to survive talking to me, you better bring me a cup of coffee." Marines didn't yelp. How could that man walk so quietly with a cane? He turned around to see the other man limp back to his table. Was it his imagination, or was the limp worse than the last time he had seen him? Gibbs decided to bring him a cup of coffee. It was easier to catch flies with honey and all that.

Gibbs set down the coffee cups harder than strictly necessary on the table.

"I want answers." He growled.

"And you are going to get some. Likely not everything you want to hear. But first one question. How far do you trust your team?" Somehow, Gibbs thought, he wasn't going to like this conversation.

"I trust DiNozzo. He is smarter than he lets on, nothing slips past him and can fool people into actually believing he is the brainless frat boy he pretends to be. McGee is a good kid, but still very green, even after several years working for me. He trusts authority a bit too much. David. Well, she has American citizenship now and allegedly cut all ties to Mossad. I'm not sure how she would react if push came to shove." His counterpart was looking at him pensively.

"Right now, your clearance isn't high enough to know who I am and what service I work for. There were reasons I pulled those cases from you. The Navy officer had caught a traitor selling information to the Chinese in the act. We knew the information hadn't left the country yet and needed to flush out all contacts. We couldn't let you do that because we were suspecting a leak in NCIS. I took John Bradford Horn from you because by then we knew that there definitely is a mole in NCIS. Somewhere near the top. And I had some personal bones to pick with him." Gibbs was surprised. Not only about a mole.

"A guy like you takes things personal?"

"He kidnapped one of my very few real friends, brainwashed him and had him nearly kill the man that raised him. All in order to steal some piece of equipment that officially doesn't exist." Gibbs swallowed. He didn't know brainwashing could be that effective.

"So, about that mole. Who do you think it could be?" Gibbs asked to steer away from that topic.

"Your director. There were inconsistencies in his handling of the previous leak. He had information that would have led to you suspecting Agent Lee from the start. He withheld it. If you had had access to all information, Agent Langer would be alive right now." Gibbs was shocked.

"How do I know you are telling the truth?" If that was true, Gibbs didn't want to know what could happen.

"Read this file. And tell me what you think." Gibbs took the offered folder.

It took him one hour to get through all the material. It consisted of memos, bank statements, credit card receipts, stills from observation tapes, conversation transcripts and much more. The picture it painted was damning, if it was true.

"According to this Vance was used as bait for a Russian killer. His death would have been used to promote NIS, now NCIS. Vance survived with the help of Eli David. Later, he figured out what was going on and decided to take revenge by selling information to the enemy." Gibbs summed up the file.

"In a nutshell, yes. We lack solid proof, though. That is where you may come in. Next month, your director is holding a conference with everyone that was involved in the mission that almost got him killed. We think he wants to take revenge on whoever hung him out to dry. At the same time, NCIS is supposed to get a new action plan concerning the prevention of attacks on several targets inside the US. If that fell into the wrong hands, it could be used as a road map for terrorists to strike against the White House, among other targets. It will be replaced with a dummy. NCIS will receive the real file when we have found all the leaks. We would like for you to keep a very close eye on Vance, see if he makes a move." Gibbs hesitated.

"What would happen if I agree? And why do you need me?" That was bothering him.

"We need you, because we usually don't put moles into our sister agencies. If the need for inside information arises, we try to recruit personnel of the agency in question. We could do the operation without you, but it would be safer with someone on the inside. If you agree, you would get phone number to deliver information to and could use to call for help. We would also arrange a series of dead drops to exchange information and messages in a less suspicious way." That sounded reasonable.

"What happens afterwards? When the mole is caught?"

"Should you remain with NCIS, I am offering unofficial help for you cases. If you were to run into a stone wall put up by another agency, I could help you get around it. I also have access to databases that would make the FBI salivate. If you retire after this is over, I could provide protection for you. You annoyed many people during your career." Only one question left.

"Why me?"

"You care. For your team. That they always make it out alive. For you, the victims are real people. You ignore politics. No matter who your suspect is, you go after them, no matter how high up the totem pole they sit." Gibbs blinked. That had almost sounded like a compliment.

"I still don't like you."

"I'm not asking you to like me. Will you work with me?"

"Yes." Even if it might cost him everything.


	6. Observation

Gibbs was sitting on his basement steps, looking at, but not really seeing, his boat. In his hand, he had a cell phone. He was trying to decide whether to make a call or not. With a heavy sigh, he dialled the number and waited.

"Archangel." The voice on the other end was crisp.

"You said you lacked solid proof about Vance. I might have found something."

"The line isn't secure on your end. I'm currently in DC. Meet me at the coffee shop."

The line went dead.

Gibbs was standing in front of the coffee shop with a huge cup of his favourite blend in hand. When he saw the white limo approaching, he wondered how a successful spy like that could get away with driving around in a car like that. The limo stopped and the door opened.

"Get in." Came the command from inside. Gibbs shrugged and entered the car. And it was a very nice car indeed. If only he could afford something like it.

"So, what do you have?"

"I looked at some of the cases the director worked in the past. I did some black ops work, and my clearance was never pulled. There are some discrepancies."

"Like what?"

"Vance was supposed to terminate a North Korean spy. According to the files he actually did it. But I know that that isn't true."

"How?"

"Because I killed the exact same spy a few years ago."

"Interesting. Anything else?"

"There were files stolen from a Navy base. Vance and a team investigated. Found the culprit, who told them where he had stashed the files. Vance went ahead. When the rest of the team arrived, the stash was empty."

"More nails in Vance's coffin. But still no solid proof."

"Yeah. But I have something else. Vance is meeting someone tonight, at 0100 hours. I also know where."

"Did you bug him?"

"No. He thought he was alone and made a phone call. I overheard it."

Gibbs looked at the man next to him. He had to admit it. He was efficient. It would have taken his team at least five hours to put together this kind of surveillance equipment. Archangel had done it in two. That has left them plenty of time to set up. Now they were waiting for Vance to show up.

"So, how long have you been doing this?"

"Doing what?"

"Your job."

"Ah. I was recruited when I was sixteen. I had just finished college."

"That's pretty young."

"You weren't that much older when you joined the Marines."

"I meant the college."

"Did you now."

"Yes."

"Being that much younger than everyone else was very annoying."

"I bet."

"And I couldn't even drown my sorrows in alcohol."

"According to one of my agents, college without alcohol is impossible."

"I managed."

"What was your subject?"

"Aeronautical engineering."

"Did you ever build a plane?"

"No."

"Pity."

"Ah, there he comes."

"Who is that with him?"

"Used to be KGB, went freelance after the Soviet Union went down. These days he works for whoever pays the most."

"Does that count as proof?"

"Depends on what the envelopes they exchanged contain. We will find out soon enough."

"How?"

"We take those two in custody and take a look."

"There is only two of us."

"I brought a Zebra squad."

"Where are they?"

"You can't make them out?"

"Should I be able to?"

"From this vantage point? Yes."

"I'm getting too old for this."

"I'm older than you are. What am I supposed to say."

"They are leaving."

"Take them."


	7. Conclusion

Gibbs was working on his boat. It was nice and calming. Just what he needed after the last few days. First, the thing with the director. Officially, he had resigned due to personal reasons. Not even his team knew the truth.

Then there had been the conference. It had been to late to cancel it. They had nearly lost Eli David to terrorists. On his watch. That would have been embarrassing. And a diplomatic nightmare.

Now, a week later, the post of director was still empty, scuttlebutt was going crazy and everyone was worried about the future.

"You know, you should really put in a decent security system in your house. Anyone could come in."

Gibbs nearly dropped a hammer on his foot. How could Archangel walk so silently with that cane? Gibbs knew his hearing was perfect.

"I just might, to keep you out." Gibbs griped.

"Oh, that would only slow me down a bit. I'm really good at what I am doing." Archangel replied amusedly.

"If you are so great, can you tell me who is going to be our next director?" Gibbs asked.

"Right now, there are a few candidates on the short list. Each has strong support. There is a lot of politicking going on." Archangel answered.

"Who is the most promising?" Gibbs wanted to know.

"SecNav is pushing for a candidate with contacts in high places. Contacts that give the CIA, FBI and the rest of that alphabet soup a headache." Gibbs got a sinking feeling.

"You don't like them either." It was more of a statement, than a question.

"I despise amateurs." Gibbs new that feeling.

"So who is that candidate?" Gibbs asked.

"You." Archangel replied.

"Me. What kind of contacts am I supposed to have?" Gibbs was confused.

"That would be me." Archangel answered while buffing his nails.

"Rather full of yourself, aren't you?" Gibbs said acidly.

"Oh, always. But I am that good. And I have some influence on the Committee. I could be persuaded to use it on the behalf of NCIS." Archangel replied.

"For a price, of course." Gibbs said.

"Naturally." Archangel answered.

"What would that price be?" Gibbs asked.

"Information, mostly. And help with some operations. A word here or there in the right ear." Archangel replied.

"Ah. If I refuse, you wouldn't do anything for us either. What stops me from giving out your number?" Gibbs wondered.

"Nothing at all. But I know who is calling me. And if it isn't you, the caller would find themselves connected to the most interesting services." Archangel answered.

"Why are you telling me all this?" Gibbs asked.

"Forewarned is forearmed, they say. If they offer you the job, you can make demands of your own. That usually works better if you had time to think about them." Archangel replied.

"What would happen, if I refuse?" Gibbs asked.

"They wouldn't let you. Take the job, or retirement." Archangel answered.

"Damned if I do, damned if I don't." Gibbs said.

"Precisely." Archangel replied.

Another week later, Gibbs was offered the job.


End file.
